


coffee house drinks (spiked with whiskey)

by Morning_Glory_Skyes



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Double Blowjobs, Double Penetration, M/M, NSFW, Shower Sex, i blame 90 percent of this on tasya, its over 9000!, okay how do i describe THIS one, sorry - Freeform, the wordcount's over 9k so i had to do the dumb joke, two guys sucking one dick, tyler fucking mini while daithi sucks mini off, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 13:03:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14379225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morning_Glory_Skyes/pseuds/Morning_Glory_Skyes
Summary: Normally Daithi drags Tyler along to the coffee shop on East Main so they can bitch about something that's happened in their lives recently.Today, however, is not that day.Today, Tyler is late.





	coffee house drinks (spiked with whiskey)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been teasing Tasya (someone in my Discord group) with tidbits of this porn for approximately a month now. It's about damn time I actually delivered it.

 

On any other day, the coffee shop on East Main is a comforting place. Soft, muted colors, low side-tables, and cozy chairs with blankets to snuggle in make it a wonderful place to relax. There's a fireplace in every room and they're almost always lit, warmth emanating throughout the area, and the owner of the cafe is well known to give especially cold patrons a hot drink on the house. Daithi enjoys this cafe immensely on normal outings. The drinks are good, the atmosphere is wonderful, and the owner refuses to let people harass him for autographs. They get kicked out for that, and then banned from getting the special house drinks for a month.

(It's nice to be able to sit back and relax without having fans bother him.)

Normally Daithi drags Tyler along so they can bitch about something that's happened recently in their lives.

Today, however, is not that day.

Daithi sighs heavily and takes another sip of his drink, then shifts to scrolling through twitter. Tyler is oddly late this morning—an hour has long since past when they were supposed to meet, and the man still hasn't shown up. The Irishman cracks his neck and slugs back the rest of his drink, frowning slightly at something on his screen. Behind him the door to the cafe creaks open. Daithi doesn't glance over, far more interested in what Mini has just tweeted. "Bitch," he mutters under his breath, already in the process of composing a rather salty return tweet, when the chair across from him is pulled out. He looks up, a brow already raised in question, and is greeted by the sight of Tyler. “You're la—” he begins, then pauses halfway because—

Tyler looks terrible, like he hasn't slept at all in the past week, and Daithi knows that something has happened. His mouth opens but blue eyes sharpen dangerously, a look that dares him to ask anything, and the Irishman instantly changes his question. “You want your regular, Wildcat?”

“If I can get it heavily spiked, then yes,” Tyler mutters, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“I'll see about that.” Daithi heaves himself up and, shoving the rest of his own drink at Tyler, heads up to the counter. The line is fairly long and he closes his eyes, idly considering as to what possibly could have happened. They'd played together last night and Tyler had sounded just fine at the time, so obviously it was a recent development. That, or the man had gotten really good at pretending nothing was actually wrong. Frowning, Daithi yanks out his phone and scrolls through Twitter, pulling up Tyler's page as soon as he spots the icon. It looks as normal as ever, just Tyler posting pictures of Kino and his car, and bitching about YouTube's bullshit.

Except... there's something missing. Or rather, someone, and Daithi has the sinking feeling that he knows what happened. “Well fuck me sideways.”

“Not particularly interested, Daithi, but the sentiment is amusing.” Apparently the line has moved faster than he thought, because he's now at the counter facing the vaguely amused owner of the cafe.

“I'll take my regular, and so will Tyler, but he wants his heavily spiked.”

“Figured that. He looks terrible. Whiskey all right?”

“I think that, as long as it's strong, it'll work.”

“Here ya go, Daithi.”

The two cups are slid across the counter to him, and Daithi takes them, placing the money in the offered hand. “Thanks,” he says tiredly, already wondering how he's going to bring it up with Tyler that he's figured out what's wrong. “Keep the change.” The trip back to their little area is quick, but his mind is locked in his thoughts, and Daithi dreads beginning the conversation. But it has to be done, if only so Wildcat can get it all out.

(The longer he keeps silent about it, the more his anger and self-hatred builds. That, Daithi knows well. He wonders if he should get anyone else in on this.)

Tyler doesn't so much as look up when Daithi slides the cup in front of him. He takes the cup and slugs it back, throat working as he drains it. Daithi winces. He'd seen how heavily spiked it had been and knows full well that Tyler won't be driving himself back to his place tonight. Not if Daithi has anything to say about it. "Fucking fuck." Tyler buries his face into his hands and sighs, long and low.

“You and Kelly broke up, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Feel like sharing why? Or do I just fuck off.”

“Fuck off.”

Daithi nods and leans back in his chair, quietly drinking as he looks Tyler over. He can probably put the man up in his house for the night. In fact— “Want to eat shitty pizza, drink too much alcohol, and beat the shit out of each other in games?”

Tyler heaves a sigh, finishes off his drink, and then takes Daithi's and drinks that, too. “Only if I don't have to drive.” He rubs at his face and looks the Irishman directly in the eye. Despite looking incredibly tired and desperately in need of a nap, there's still a gleam of determination in his gaze.

(Fuck, but Daithi's just as in love as he used to be.)

For a while they just sit there in silence, Tyler getting another alcohol fueled refill and Daithi switching to something a little less caffeinated. He knows fulls well that this is gonna be a long night, and that he's gonna be exhausted when it's all over. Daithi bites his lip and refreshes his twitter, pausing when he spots Mini's return tweet. It's calling him a "fuckboi" and he snorts loudly. Then an idea occurs to him and the laughter becomes full-blown and bordering on pure evil.

_Daithi de Nogla - @daithidenogla – xx  
_ _@miniladdd_ Say that to my face, bitch

_Craig - @miniladdd - xx  
@daithidenogla_ fucking watch me

Daithi snickers quietly. Well, that worked perfectly. “We'll order pizza when we get back to my place.”

Tyler's head snaps up. “The fuck you mean 'your place'? What the fuck makes you think I'm going to your shitty place?”

“One: you're not driving anywhere after drinking; Two: my place is closer; and Three: Mini's coming over.” Daithi's lips curve up into a wicked smile and he laughs when Tyler finally registers his words.

“Mini's coming?” the taller man yelps, then slaps his hands over his mouth as the couple at the next table shush him and sends a withering glare in their direction. They instantly look away, uncomfortable with Tyler's level of intimidation. Daithi, far more used to it, laughs and doesn't even twitch when Tyler levels the glare in his direction.

“Yup. You ready to make him rage-quit like the fuckboi he is?”

A smile slowly begins to spread across Tyler's face, and low, evil laughter rumbles in his chest. He gets to his feet, only the slightest bit unsteady from the alcohol in his system, and heads for the door, looking rather pleased with everything. Daithi snatches up his phone from where he'd abandoned it on the table and glances at twitter, lips curving up when he spots Mini's final message.

Craig - @miniladdd – xx  
_@daithidenogla_ on my way, bitch. your face better be ready for this

Daithi - @daithidenogla – xx  
_@miniladdd_ my face isn't the only thing that's ready, bitch

The moment they reach Daithi's car, Tyler drops into the passenger seat with a smirk, shoving it back and stretching out his long legs. Daithi, his mouth suddenly dry, settles into the driver's seat and swallows nervously. Holy fuck, he's about to do this, isn't he. About to have a gaming night with the two people he has a crush on. About to game drunk, even though he knows he's the worst cuddly and flirty drunk that has ever existed.

Daithi's going to die tonight, possibly tomorrow morning if he actually does come onto Mini and Tyler. This is bad. This is very, very bad.

(If he was smart, Daithi would write up his will now. But he's in the middle of driving, so it's going to have to wait. He makes a mental note to do it later.)

On the way back to his house, only one stop is made, and it's to pick up a bunch of cheep, shitty beer. After all, taste doesn't matter when you're trying to get as drunk as possible, and Daithi wants to get this over with quickly. The sooner he's drunk, the sooner he can stop thinking about possibly fucking up his friendship with the both of them.

By whatever miracle, they make it back to Daithi's place before Mini shows up, despite having spent a good, solid half an hour arguing about which beer was better for getting drunk. Dropping the alcohol into Tyler's hands, he shoves the man in the direction of his gaming room and goes to order the pizza, pausing to steady himself the moment the giant is out of view.

Goddammit, but this is going to be horrible for his heart, isn't it. He rubs at his eyes and then grabs his cell to make the call.

Mini's showed his stupid dyed head by the time Daithi gets done with the call, and when he returns to his gaming room, he and Tyler are in the process of snarling insults at each other over a game of smash bros. It's still friendly though, mainly because Tyler currently seems to be winning if Mini's sounds of frustration are anything to go by.

(For a brief second, only briefly, Daithi wonders what it would be like to be pinned underneath Mini. To be spread open wide and left gasping for breath and needy for his touch.)

He shakes his head, almost desperate to remove the thought before he steps into the room and promptly snorts at the sight of Mini wailing dramatically as Captain Falcon punches Kirby off of the nearest cliff. “Why can't you let me win for once, you asshole?”

Tyler snorts loudly and takes a swig of his drink before setting it down. “Why the fuck should should that? You're the one who fucking sucks.” Mini shrieks and tosses his controller aside, before hurling himself right at Tyler with a snarl. The taller man gasps and recoils, hands coming up in an attempt to defend himself. “You bitch!” he snarls, twisting around so he can pin Mini's ass against the ground.

Daithi sighs heavily and leans against the doorway, watching the two of them tussle. “No fucking on my floor. And don't break any of my shit either.”

Mini, practically sprawled across Tyler's chest, his face flushed pink from alcohol and embarrassment, squawks loudly and recoils. “Even if we _were_ fucking, you wouldn't get to watch,” he says with a sniff, and Daithi tries not to react to the statement. His heart sinks in his chest, and he knows his smile has visibly faltered from the way Mini narrows his eyes.

Tyler, thankfully, has already opened the booze and is just drunk enough to come to his rescue. “Ah, fuck off, Daithi.” He scowls at the controllers on the ground and shoves Mini off of his chest so he can grab one again. “Let's play Brawl until the pizzas get here. Then I'll kick your asses in Mario Kart. Same rules as always; three lives each. You die, you take a shot.”

“You wish,” Daithi mutters, rolling his eyes as he settles down and grabs a controller.

“I'm gonna win it all, bitch,” Mini interjects, waving a hand lazily as he squints at the screen.

“Hah! You fucking wish.” Tyler snorts loudly and waves the controller around. “I'm gonna be the winner here.” He takes a swig of his drink and laughs, rough and biting. “You're losing right now.”

Mini sticks his tongue out and once again selects Kirby for the next battle, scowling just the slightest when Tyler once again picks Captain Falcon. Daithi, being significantly less drunk, grabs Zelda. It's only because Din's Fire is stupidly powerful when used correctly and he plans to use it to his advantage.

(He's usually not very good at Zelda, but Mini and Tyler are just drunk enough that he can make this work.

Somehow.)

The first, and worst possible level for the drunk people to be on, is the Great Cave Offensive, and Daithi laughs as he spots his chance to really wreck havoc on the others. Din's Fire comes to life in Zelda's hands as soon as he's in range and Tyler is just drunk enough that Captain Falcon can't get out of the way in time. “Daithi, you son of a whore!” he bellows furiously, slamming his hand against a cushion in time with his fighter bouncing on the spikes.

“You're a motherfucker,” Mini snaps, attempting to have Kirby bring a hammer down onto Zelda's head, and Daithi rolls out of the way with a smirk. “And,” the Brit adds with a sniff, taking the chance to drop a rock onto Tyler's head while he's distracted, much to the other's howl of fury, “you're not nearly drunk enough for this.” An open can is shoved into Daithi's face and he blinks down at it for a second, momentarily caught off guard.

“The fuck?”

Mini scowls at him. “Drink, you stupid Irish fuck. It's not fair that you're as sober as you are.”

Daithi shoves the can away, ignoring the way some of the liquid splashes out and over his fingers. He licks it off quickly, frowning a little at the sharp, bitter taste. “I'll drink when the fucking pizza gets here, you idiots. I want to be able to pay the delivery dude _and_ tip them properly.” Mini sets the can on the table and looks away, annoyance clear in the line of his shoulders.

Tyler glares at the screen, eyes narrowed as he concentrates on knocking Mini into lava. “Let him fucking tip the dude. Fuckers don't get paid nearly enough for doing their job.” He scowls a little and yelps loudly when he steps upon a hidden set of spikes. Captain Falcon bounces off the bottom of the platform above and is eliminated in a brilliant burst of red light. “Fuck!” He snatches the open can off of the table and slugs it back, slamming it down once his character has once again become playable. “I'm gonna fucking nail your ass for that.”

“ _You're_ the one who stepped on spikes,” Mini says slowly, side-eying Tyler like he's a special brand of stupid. “How the fuck you gonna nail the _stage_ for that?”

The giant of a man shrugs. “I'll fucking find a way. Burn it all down or somethin'.”

Daithi snorts under his breath and takes the chance to blow Mini up with Din's Fire, sending Kirby flying out of bounds. “Another point for me, motherfucker.”

Mini jabs him in the chest, seething quietly. “You're a fucking cunt,” he hisses, then slugs back a shot of whatever he's drinking. “I'm gonna fucking get you for that.”

“You can fucking try,” Daithi retorts, manipulating Zelda so she dodges out of the way of Captain Falcon's punch before retaliating with a side smash that sends him skidding a good couple of feet. “You're both down a life and I'm still below 50% damage.”

“We're drunk, ya cunt. Join us.”

Daithi sighs heavily and rolls his eyes upward, almost begging for patience. “I'll drink when the pizza fucking arrives.” He scowls and sets Mini on fire again, ignoring the Brit's drunken wail of anger.

“You _fuck_!”

“You're the ones who fucking suck.”

Apparently, saying that is a terrible idea because Mini and Tyler immediately decide that ganging up on him is a wonderful plan. Daithi would be against such a course of action, except they're both drunk enough that coming at him from the same direction is a _fantastic_ idea. If he'd had any idea of how entertaining using Din's Fire on this map would be, Datihi would have gotten into using Zelda a lot sooner. Mini attempts to drop a rock onto him, leaping off of an upper ledge with a loud battle cry, and Tyler's character lunges in with a swift side dash.

It's child's play to sidestep everything and watch with glee bubbling in his chest as the two collide, sending Captain Falcon careening off the stage and to his death far below, Kirby's rock form plummeting right behind. “Mini!” Tyler bellows furiously, voice nearly covering Mini's frantic attempts to apologize, and Daithi leans back against the couch and roars with laughter.

“That was the stupidest shit I've ever seen,” he wheezes, clutching tightly at the controller within his grip.

“Stupidest?” Mini echoes, and he sounds incredibly insulted, but insulted is his default setting so Daithi really can't be certain.

“Stupidest. Even worse than Panda and Moo playing Golf It's ice levels.”

Tyler scowls at him. “I hate you.”

Daithi smiles at him, sunny and bright, and looking very much like he hadn't just killed off both of their characters only moments before. “Love you, too,” he coos, pausing in his laughter only when Mini attempts to kick him in the side. It's a clumsy attempt, made even worse by how much alcohol he's had in the past ten minutes, and Daithi smacks the offending limb away, smirking at the way his friend yelps in offense. “You're both fucking idiots for playing Brawl drunk with me.”

The sound Tyler makes is somewhere close to a snarl, but the giant doesn't remove his gaze from the screen. Mini squints at his character and moves Kirby up another ledge, clearly wary about attempting to crush Zelda again. Tyler, on the other hand, clearly doesn't give a fuck and lunges forward, Captain Falcon gearing up for his trademark Falcon Punch. “Your ass is mine!”

Zelda neatly rolls out of the way, and Daithi snorts loudly as Captain Falcon's momentum carries him directly off of the level. “What was that about my ass being yours?”

Mini snickers and scowls at the screen. “I ain't winning,” he mutters. “Too fucking drunk for this bullshit.” Daithi snorts, and his laughter grows louder.

“You bet your ass you ain't winning.” He only stops laughing when there's a knock at the door. “Fuckin' finally. I'm starving.” Tyler grumbles at them as Mini pauses the game and resets back to the it's ready screen. “I'm getting the pizza, you two set up Mario Kart.” Daithi pulls himself to his feet and cracks his neck, ignoring the way he flushes pink when Tyler stretches, revealing a small strip of skin. “God dammit.”

He heads towards the door and tries to ignore the way Mini and Tyler start squabbling behind him, their laughter ringing loud and clear through his house. The delivery person at his door grins at him, her face lighting up the instant he opens it. “Yo!” she chirps. “Got your pizzas here. $44 is your total.”

His wallet's on a side counter by the door and Daithi grabs it and pulls out $60, handing it over to her without a sound. “Keep the change,” he says and takes the four boxes out of her hands, placing them on the counter before closing the door behind him. Already he can hear the familiar music of the game starting up, and Mini bitching about Tyler stealing his character. “Don't you start without me, you fucks!” he calls, pausing only to grab a bunch of plates from his kitchen.

“Then bring the pizza, you Irish cunt!” Tyler yells back. Mini makes a noise of agreement, though his words are far more unintelligible. Daithi snorts and grabs a can, popping it open and taking a swig before he attempts to carry all four boxes and the plates into the other room. Mini and Tyler are already racing when he gets there, snarling loudly every time they're hit.

Tyler somehow manages to win, redshelling Mini at the very last corner and earning an almost ear-piercing scream. Rolling his eyes, Daithi sets the boxes onto the table and drops the plates beside it, yanking one open and loading his plate up. The world map comes back into view and Daithi snorts as his deformed character trots into view. “Right. Prepare to lose, bitches.”

Mini shoves a pizza slice into his mouth and shoves an opened can in Daithi's direction before focusing on the screen again. Rainbow Road is the first map they play and Tyler falls off almost instantly, cursing loudly. “Fucking fuck!” he screeches, slamming his hand against the couch, and Daithi instantly takes the change to zip past him.

“Kiss my fucking ass,” Mini cheers, immediately taking the chance to hurl a bomb at him. The explosion sends Tyler's cart flying and his voice soars upwards into a scream, high enough pitched to make Daithi crack into laughter. Rainbow Road is fraught with peril, especially considering the fact that two of them are already verging on drunk, and every time Mini and Tyler fall off, their shrieks get louder.

Somehow, probably because Daithi's laughing so hard he can't drive straight, Tyler manages to come in first. He roars with laughter, raising his arms in the air, and Daithi swallows harshly and throws back two shots of whatever alcohol he can get his hands on. The less he tries to think about how Mini and Tyler are sitting right next to him—how they're so close he can lay his head on Mini's shoulder or wrap an arm around Tyler's waist—the less likely he is to lose his goddamned mind.

“I have an idea.” Tyler's voice cuts through the haze and Daithi blinks, realizing that another race has started and he's dead last. The other two haven't noticed how last he is quite yet and Daithi guns it, hitting all of the shortcuts in an attempt to catch up before they do.

“What's the idea?” he asks, shifting to take another drink.

Tyler's grin widens. “Whoever comes last has to take a shot. Second and first are safe.” He still sounds relatively clear-minded, so he's probably just tipsy at this point.

It's a terrible idea, but being so close to his crushes is driving Daithi mad, and he's more than willing to drink if it means forgetting everything. “Deal,” he says, and then slugs back the last of his drink. The empty can is abandoned on a nearby table and Daithi cracks open a new one, sipping at it with one hand as he boosts off a jump and flies neatly over Mini's backwards thrown greenshell. “Missed me, bitch.”

Mini cackles loudly, and then calls, “Hey, Tyler! Catch!” and Daithi hears the explosion seconds before Tyler's scream of the Brit's name.

Daithi roars with laughter, his shoulders shaking violently, and his mii drives straight into a wall. He might be Irish, but he doesn't usually drink like this on the regular and he's already starting to feel the burn in his chest.

(Through the combined efforts of Mini and himself, Tyler comes in last that race. He glares mutinously at the both of them as he drinks, then swears revenge.

This is definitely not a good idea, but Daithi no longer gives a fuck.)

By the time the tenth race rolls around, they're all fairly drunk. Somehow Daithi's managed to stay in the lead points-wise, but it doesn't mean he hasn't drunken as much as the others. He's tipsy as hell, giggling softly, and enjoying the way Mini's leaning heavily against his side. Tyler's long legs are draped over his, and the giant of a man has scooted over in an attempt to use his elbows as a distraction.

(It's an incredible distraction that Daithi's trying desperately to ignore.)

“That fuckin' does it!” Tyler finally bellows, last for the fourth time in a row, slamming his hand down against the couch cushions. He whirls to look at them, blue eyes narrowed with a sort of fury that's rarely seen in him, and visibly seethes for a few seconds as he collects his words. “You two bitches are gonna make a bet.”

“What bet, pig-boy?” Mini asks, turning and eying Tyler quietly, and while he doesn't look for the bet, he doesn't look completely against it either. It's...alarming, Daithi finds, and the Irishman swallows nervously, his throat suddenly tight.

Tyler's smile sharpens, widening until it's nothing but teeth, and then he laughs. It's rough, dark, and the laugh of someone who has nothing to lose and everything to win. “Last race, winner takes everything. Losers owe winner a favor.”

Daithi hesitates. He's currently in the lead for points and if he does this, he's fucked. But he's also won the last five races in a row; Mini and Tyler battling it out for second. Mini, on the other hand, grins widely. The Brit's been losing just as much and clearly as no problem setting such a bet, because he's already agreeing enthusiastically. “Shit,”—Daithi mutters—“Fine. Prepare to be my bitch,” and swigs back what remains of his drink. It's warm going down his throat, the burn of the alcohol familiar and strong.

(It's an absolutely _terrible_ idea, but Daithi doesn't give a fuck anymore. He's had both of his crushes on either side of him for the last four hours, pressed right up against his body, and his brain is inches from frying.

This shit isn't fucking fair, and some stupid bet ain't gonna make it any worse.)

Mini grins, just as many teeth in his own smile, and nods. “What Daithi said.” His cheeks are flushed pink, a winked smirk curling his lips and, goddammit, does it look good on him. The Brit snuggles closer, pressing up against Daithi's side and using his shoulder as a headrest. Tyler scoots in as well, and their arms are brushing against each other.

(Daithi really, _really_ wants to lean over and kiss them right fucking now.)

The final race starts up with the familiar bling of music. It's Baby Park, the easiest, straightest track in the game, but Daithi knows this is gonna be insane, especially because there are now AI players on the course. He grits his teeth and tries to focus on the screen, but his mind is now distinctly aware of the press of bodies against his own, their familiar warmth seeping into him. “Motherfuck.”

A vaguely agreeing noise comes from Mini, sharp eyes now focused on the screen, and his hands are tight around the controller. Daithi glances at it, notes how Lakitu is now counting down the race, and guns it.

Seven laps, so many ways to fuck up, and now a bet riding on the results. It's disaster waiting to happen and Daithi can't wait to hit his first item box.

'Go!' pops up on the screen, and he boosts forward from twelth to fours, zipping through two of them. It's a trio of redshells, and his second box is a trio of bananas, and Daithi cackles loudly before launching them at the nearest player. Somewhere behind him, Tyler yells “Kobe!” and chucks a bomb, laughing as both Daithi and Mini are caught in the explosion, dropping them back to eighth and tenth, respectively.

“Ya're a fuck, Tyler,” Daithi snaps, and leans back as Mini reaches over him in an attempt to slap Tyler. “Mini, stop being a bitch and race.”

“Fuck off, Daithi.” Mini runs a hand through his hair, shoving it back, and growls at the screen. “You're fucking dead, pig-boy.”

Tyler flicks them the middle finger, but doesn't look away from the screen. He's in first place, riding high from the success of the bomb, and a single mistake could ruin the entire thing. When in lap five, Daithi takes the chance to grab two item boxes; both of them wind up as redshells, a trio and a single, and he gleefully launches them, avoiding another bomb and zipping quickly into second. Mini hisses quietly, his trio of mushrooms bringing Yoshi into third.

A blueshell, thrown by someone in the back, zips by and Tyler screams furiously as it blows him up. Daithi takes the chance to snag first while Toad recovers, crossing the finish line and beginning lap six. For a moment, he sees the light, easily making it around and starting the final lap in first. It doesn't last long, it never does on Baby Park, and mushrooms are a racer's best friend.

“Fuck yes!” Tyler nearly bellows as Toad blurs over the line in first place, aided by a trio of the damn things. “Suck my fuckin' dick!”

Daithi, scowling as his mii crosses over moments later in second place, blurts out the first words that come to mind. “Ya sure 'bout that?”

Mini snickers softly, finishing neatly in third with Yoshi. “Yeah, Tyler, you sure?”

Tyler pauses for a second, clearly thinking over his words, and then shrugs, tosses his controller aside, and leans back against the couch, spreading his legs wide. “Ya know what, sure, why the fuck not.” He pats his thigh almost mockingly, but Mini doesn't hesitate, dropping his controller and moving to settle in between them, blinking sweetly up at their giant of a friend. It takes Daithi a second to shut down the Switch and gather up the controllers, but he dumps them out of the way and then takes his place right beside Mini.

Blue eyes watch them intently, pupils blown wide from the alcohol and the excitement of the game—and possibly something else—and Tyler reaches down to snap the button of his jeans open. Mini swats his hands away before he can and pops it open himself, then hesitates slightly. Daithi rolls his eyes and yanks down the zipper, reaching in before he can stop himself and tugging out Tyler's dick. He's not fully hard, not quite yet, but Tyler groans softly and throws his arms over the back of the couch, watching them through hooded eyes. “Well?”

Daithi scowls at him. “Shut the fuck up. Two is awkward.” He says nothing of the fact that he's basically admitted to sucking dick before, and wraps his hand around it. The dick twitches in his hand, and he lets go, shaking his head. “Scoot forward, bitch.”

Tyler raises a brow, but does as commanded and moves forward to the edge of the couch. Daithi smirks up at him, brown eyes glittering with mischief, and leans so he can run his tongue up one side of the shaft. Beside him, Mini giggles and copies his movements, licking up towards the head and then pressing his lips against Daithi's own once he reaches the top. “Holy fuck,” Tyler breathes, reaching forward and dropping a hand on their heads. “Don't ya fuckin' stop.” His pupils have blown wide with lust, a thin ring of blue barely visible around the black, and Daithi can feel the way the man's grabbing at their hair. He pulls away from Mini and wraps his lips around the head of Tyler's dick, feeling more than seeing when the Brit drops down so he can suck at the shaft once more.

Fingers press at his cheek and Daithi's eyes flicker over. Mini grins at him, then presses again. “My turn, bitch,” he says, and the Irishman pulls away with a slurp. Above him, Tyler groans softly and gives a gentle tug at Daithi's hair before letting go.

They switch places and Mini greedily mouths hungrily at the head before wrapping his lips around it, apparently taking a moment to open his throat and swallow the entire thing down. Tyler jerks with a gasp and immediately hunches forward, fingers tangling in Mini's hair and tugging harshly. Daithi watches for a moment and then pokes gently at the Brit's cheek, much like had been done to him just seconds ago, and laughs. “Don't be a pig.”

Mini pulls back and sucks at the head before letting go with a pop and licking his lips clean. He mouths hungrily at the shaft and Daithi joins him, pressing the tip of his tongue into the slit and sucking hard. The sharp gasp Tyler lets out is very satisfying. “God fucking dammit,” he manages, almost breathless with lust and need. “If you two keep this up, I won't be lasting very long.”

Daithi pauses just long enough to mutter, “That's the point,” and then goes back to mouthing at the head, pressing his tongue against the underside of the head. Even though he's licking hungrily at the shaft, Mini somehow manages to snicker, shoulders shaking with amusement and barely suppressed glee.

“The point is, I don't want to cum all over your faces if given the choice between that and your ass.” Tyler's gaze flickers away and he looks vaguely embarrassed at admitting it.

“Are you telling me that you can't get it up more than once?” Daithi asks dubiously, one eyebrow raised upward, pulling away just long enough to get the words out before going back to sucking hungrily.

Tyler splutters loudly and yanks harshly at Daithi's hair, dragging a groan out of his throat. “Fine,” he snaps. “I'll come on your faces.” His hips jerk upwards, the movement sharp and jagged, and Daithi pulls away in an attempt to keep from choking.

“Keep your fucking hips down,” he snaps, a hand coming up to press down on an upper thigh. Mini copies him on the other side and goes back to sucking at the shaft. Tyler groans and pushes their faces away, wraps his hand around his dick, and jerks upwards once, twice, and then comes with a growl. It splatters across their faces and Daithi's eyes flicker shut for a heartbeat. When he opens them again, Mini's got cum across his glasses and he's scowling a little, mouth tight.

“Fucking hell, Tyler,” he mutters, grabbing a nearby box of tissues so he can clean his face and glasses off, “I was gonna swallow that.”

Tyler's cheeks are pink, but he can still manage an impressive glare. “Yeah, well, maybe I want to fuck ya.”

Mini goes very still for a second and then smiles, slipping his now clean glasses back onto his face. “Daithi,”—he says at last, lips curving up wickedly—“I bet he'd look very pretty freshly fucked,” and leans over to lick a glob of cum off of the Irishman's cheek. The sound Tyler makes at the sight is low and deep, almost a growl, and a shiver runs down Daithi's spine. Fuck, but the thought is hot. “Bedroom, now.”

Tyler snorts, but gets up without a word and heads down the hall to where the Irishman's bedroom is, Mini following right behind. It takes Daithi a moment to collect his brain again, but eventually he hurries after. Mini and Tyler have already stripped by the time he catches up and the Brit raises a single brow at his completely dressed state. Daithi strips without a word, tossing his clothing aside and joining the other two on the bed, and Mini leans over to seal their mouths together. “Good boy.”

A shiver runs down his spine at the words and he shudders and crawls into Tyler's lap, not resisting as the other pushes Daithi forward and presses him onto Mini, and then the both of them down against the bed. “Make out with him, Mini. I wanna try something.”

Mini pauses, blinks at him over Daithi's shoulder, and then presses their mouths together. Tyler catches a glimpse of tongue and nods, satisfied at the sight, then moves back and spreads Daithi's cheeks, dipping his head to take a long, slow lick. Daithi pulls away from Mini, eyes blowing wide, and his hips jerk. Tyler tightens his grip and takes another taste, mouth curving up into a smug smile.

It's satisfying to see the Irishman arch, back bowing in pleasure as Tyler nips hungrily at his thighs. He gently scrapes his teeth against the rim of Daithi's hole, then shoves his tongue in deeper. The sound that Daithi makes is needy and pitched, hips pressing back against his lips. Mini's kissing him thoroughly, hands pressed against either side of his face in an attempt to keep him steady, and Tyler can see how red his face is.

(God, but he wants to mark up every possible inch of skin.)

He shifts forward, nips hungrily at a pale shoulder, and then bites down harder, pressing his chest against Daithi's back and pinning him down completely. Mini pulls away, breath ragged, and dives back in for another kiss, swallowing the noises he's making. Their hips are pressed together, dicks grinding against each other, and while Tyler's disappointed about the fact that he can't hear them, he knows Daithi's moaning softly.

Tyler pulls back from sucking and biting at Daithi's throat and is very satisfied to see dark marks forming along his neck, and he runs his tongue down the length of his back. The sound he makes is soft and needy, and Tyler spreads his cheeks. He presses his tongue hungrily against his Daithi's hole, sucks at the rim, and then pulls away, laughing softly at the whine that escapes the Irishman's throat.

Gently pushing Mini away, Tyler flips him around and presses Daithi's back against his chest, spreading his legs wide. “Mini,” he murmurs. “Find the lube and slick him up for me.”

“Mmm,” the Brit murmurs, already in the process of searching through a side drawer in an attempt to find a bottle. The moment he finds it, he holds it up with a noise of triumph and flicks the bottle open with his thumb. Tyler takes it without a word and spills slick lube across his fingers, rubbing them together to warm them up. They disappear from Daithi's field of vision and he leans his head back against Tyler's shoulder, gasping softly when they press against his hole. He's already slick and loose and needy, and Daithi clenches down on the fingers shoved inside of him.

“Motherfucker,” Mini breathes, watching as Tyler yanks his fingers out and hauls Daithi up. Mini leans forward and shifts Tyler's dick into position, fingers gently pressing the head in. A sharp gasp rips its way out of Daithi's throat and his eyes flicker closed; the blush on his cheeks darkening in shade. Tyler thrusts up at the same time Mini presses down on Daithi's hips, slowly fucking Tyler's dick deeper into his body.

Daithi arches, presses back against Tyler's chest, and whines in the back of his throat. Mini crawls up onto his lap and presses their hips together, grinding down sharply and sealing their lips together. He pulls away to mouth hungrily at Daithi's throat, eagerly darkening the hickies that Tyler left earlier. Daithi reaches for him, drapes his arms over Mini's shoulders, and clings to the Brit, keening softly. “God you look good like this,” Mini murmurs, then kisses him again, stealing whatever answer Daithi may have had.

Tyler leans forward and sucks heavily on his throat, adding to the collection of hickies that's already there, and bounces Daithi roughly. Mini barks a sharp laugh and presses their hips back together, wrapping a hand around their dicks and tugging upwards. “He does,” Tyler murmurs, and he's strong enough to bounce both Mini and Daithi at the same time.

Mini makes a soft noise of pleasure and nuzzles at Daithi's throat. “Hurry up and finish, Tyler. I wanna fuck him, too.”

“Just join me,” Tyler mutters, pressing Daithi against his chest and spreading his legs wide. Mini pauses, glances down at where Tyler's dick is buried deep inside of the Irishman, and then meets sharp, blue eyes.

“....Can it fit?” he finally asks.

Tyler snorts softly and hauls Daithi up, leaving just the tip of his dick buried inside of him. “Grab more lube and stretch him further.”

There's a soft, low grumble, and then Mini's searching through the mess of clothing on the floor in an attempt to find where he threw the bottle of lube. It's buried underneath Daithi's shirt and Mini makes a noise of triumph when he finds it. He clicks it open and spills it over his fingers, then presses gently at the muscle, sliding a finger inside and tugging at the rim. Daithi whines, body clenching, and Mini slaps his thigh, softly murmuring, “Behave for me, darling,” into his ear.

One finger becomes two, tugging him open wider, and Tyler can't resist snapping his hips up sharply and pulling out. Mini swats him with his free hand, laughing softly, and slides a third finger inside of Daithi while he's distracted. Tyler eyes him for a second and then nods slowly, hefting Daithi up higher so Mini has easier access.

Mini snatches the bottle of lube and slicks himself up before scooting in, wriggling up onto Tyler's lap and pressing the head of his dick against Daithi's already stuffed hole. The Irishman watches through hooded eyes, barely managing to murmur, “Are you _sure_ it'll fit?” Mini laughs at him, soft and gentle, and grinds his hips upwards, carefully pressing inside. Daithi's head falls forward, drops against Mini's shoulder, and he whines quietly, feeling as they both sink inside of him.

“Motherfuck.”

Tyler's fingers find his mouth and slip inside, and Daithi sucks hungrily on them, wrapping his tongue around the digits and smearing them with saliva. He leans his head back against Tyler's shoulders and shifts his weight, grinding down on both cocks buried balls deep in his ass. Tyler catches his hips and pins him into place, holding him down as Mini pulls out, dragging his dick across Daithi's prostate. “You take us so well,” Mini murmurs, mouth pressed up against his ear and Daithi's tongue flickers out, wets his dry lips, and he swallows heavily.

“Fuckin' flirt,” Tyler rumbles, thrusting in just as Mini pulls out. They take turns fucking into Daithi, moving into a smooth, sharp rhythm where one of them is always balls deep. Daithi's breath is sharp in the air, ripping in and out of his lungs, and he spreads his legs wider, grinding down with every thrust up into him. “You take our cocks so well.”

Daithi laughs and it's rough. “What can I say? I'm a whore for a good cock.” He pauses, and his lips curve up into a sharp smile. “Or should I say, two cocks?”

Mini pauses in his movement long enough to share a glance with Tyler and then shakes his head. “Right. You're way too talkative for having both of us balls deep in you, which clearly means we're not doing our damn job correctly.” His lips quirk upwards and he nips at Daithi's throat, shifting his timing so he can thrust upwards exactly when Tyler does.

Tyler breathes in sharply and drops his head, pressing his face against the open skin of the Irishman's neck. He bites down hard enough to make Daithi moan, and starts timing his thrusts with Mini's, fucking both of their cocks in as deep as he can.

God, but Daithi can't wait for them to cum in him. He knows how good it will be, feeling the slick warmth inside of him, and seeing their pleasure written across their faces.

Daithi wonders what Tyler would look like, caught up in his own orgasm and blue eyes dilated with release. What Mini would look like, green eyes shining with desire. He wonders if they'd be soft of gentle at their peak. If fingers would dig into his hips and leave bruises, or if he'd wind up with hickies covering his throat.

He can feel Tyler's grip on his thighs tightening, can feel Mini's thrusts becoming sharper and erratic, and knows that they'll be reaching their peak soon enough. Tyler lets go and sucks hungrily at his throat, soothing away the sting of the bite. His fingers are going to leave indentations in Daithi's thighs, permanent marks of his passion that the Irishman's going to treasure forever. There's going to be bite marks on one side of his throat and hickies decorating the other once this is over.

(This is how he's going to die, stuffed full with the cock of the two men he loves. What a way to go. Daithi finds that he doesn't mind in the least.)

Mini's apparently determined that not to cum first, because he shifts his weight and wraps a hand around Daithi's dick, tugging upwards in time with their thrust. “Good idea,” Tyler manages, jerking Daithi down further onto his dick.

Daithi arches in between them, twisting desperately against Mini's hands. “Fook!” he whines, reaching back to tangle his hands in Tyler's hair and tug at the strands. Tyler groans deep in his throat and snaps his hips upwards. Mini laughs, low and rough, green irises swallowed by black pupils, and tightens his fist.

“You're ours now,” Mini purrs, and strokes up the side of Daithi's dick, making sure to gently flick the head. And Daithi cums with a horse, strangled curse, the Irish slipping through his lips. He knows that Mini and Tyler won't be able to understand, but, judging by the way Mini licks his lips, it's still a turn on.

Tyler groans softly at the way Daithi tightens when he cums, hips jerking erratically up into him. He can't understand a single word of the Irish, but it's still incredibly hot to his ears. There's just something so fucking satisfying about making someone completely lose control, about making them revert to their mother tongue in their pleasure. Mini's head drops forward, accent thick and slurred, but Tyler can still hear his choked off “Fuck!” He knows the Brit has cum, can feel it against his own dick, and the sensation triggers his own peak.

“Motherfuck,” he manages, shoving in as deep as he can, and moves his hands from Daithi's thighs to his waist, grip tightening. His face presses against smooth pale skin and Tyler sinks his teeth in, muffling his own voice as much as possible. The only sounds of pleasure he wants to hear are from Mini and Daithi, not himself.

Daithi sags between them, whining faintly, and tilts his face back so he can press gentle kisses against Tyler's cheek. He nuzzles up against the beard there, laughing breathlessly. Mini groans faintly and leans forward to kill Tyler dead on, tongue slipping inside of his mouth. “Taste good,” he murmurs sleepily, eyes hooded and heavy. God, but Daithi wants to sleep right here, stuffed full with Mini and Tyler's cocks, but he knows he'll regret it in the morning.

“Shower,” Daithi grunts, gently pushing Mini off of him. He stumbles to his feet and catches his balance, wincing when he feels the slick drip of cum running down pale skin. Tyler makes a pleased noise behind him, most likely staring at his stained thighs, but Daithi doesn't turn to look. He heads directly out of the room and towards the shower in the master bedroom. It should be more than big enough to fit three. “Come on, you fucks.”

“Ooh,” Mini says faintly from behind him, then there's the sound of footsteps and his arm slips around Daithi's waist. “You're _inviting_ us in? How kind.” Tyler snorts loudly and, by the sound of the faint cursing, gets to his feet.

“Wait for me, you fucks.”

Daithi rolls his eyes slowly. “If you want more, you need to get the fuck over here.” He shoves the slightly ajar door open with his hip and flicks on the light, heading straight for the shower. Tyler barks a laugh, deep and rough, and moves forward just enough to grab at Daithi's ass. The Irishman laughs and swats his hand away, leaning over so he can twist the knobs. “Not me, you fuck, I'm sore.”

Mini steps into the shower first with a laugh, swaying his hips from side to side, and then promptly yelps at the temperature. “What kind of heathen are you?!” he nearly shrieks, hand snapping out to crank up the heat.

“I'm Irish,” Daithi says flatly. Behind him, Tyler snorts loudly, and reaches over Daithi's shoulder to whack Mini's arm.

“Don't be a bitch.”

“I'm not a bitch,” Mini snaps, “Daithi's just a heathen when it comes to water temperature.”

“For fucks sake,” Daithi mutters, stepping into the tub. The water's warmer than he's used to, far warmer, but he can put up with it for this shower. Especially if it means being in the same one as Mini _and_ Tyler. “Just get in here and clean the fuck up.”

Tyler snorts again, steps into the tub, and tugs Mini against his massive frame. “Maybe I wanna fuck in here, too.”

Daithi's lips twitch upwards and he laughs softly. “I hope you're not planning to fuck me. I'm too sore right now.”

Mini grins. “My ass is ready.” His smile widens and he snickers, then adds, “I bet you can't make me limp tomorrow.”

“Oh, fuck no,” Daithi groans. “No more bets, dammit. If you want to fuck, just fuck, and leave the stupidity out of it.” The other two just laugh at him, Tyler reaching over to drag Mini closer to him.

“All right,” he says, fingers sliding around to press at Mini's hole. The Brit arches up against him, fingers reaching up to tangle in Tyler's hair.

“I'm up for getting fucked,” Mini says, and Daithi rolls his eyes, stepping out of the shower so he can grab lube from the cabinet above the sink.

“Here, you heathens.” Tyler's free hand snatches it midair and he pops the cap with his thumb, spilling the slick liquid into the palm of his hand. Daithi eyes him cautiously for a second before turning away and grabbing the shampoo from the shelf. “If you're gonna fuck, at least do it while the water's still warm.”

The arm Tyler has around Mini's waist tightens slightly and he presses slick fingers into him, watching as the Brit arches within his grasp. “Fuck!”

Daithi watches silently for a moment over his shoulder, then licks his lips and shoves the bottle back into its place. “Fuck him from behind. I wanna suck his dick,” he says, turning to face them, and barks a short laugh when Mini's breath hitches once more.

Tyler grins widely. “Now you're talking.” He pulls his fingers out and turns Mini around, pressing his back against his chest and slipping them back in. Daithi gently nudges his thighs further apart and drops down his knees, sliding his hands across damp skin.

Mini watches him through heavy lids, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. Daithi can't see when Tyler actually enters Mini, but he knows by the arched back and the sharp, needy gasp of pleasure. He knows by the way pale thighs tremble and shake, and by the way Tyler's arm tightens its grip on Mini's waist. “How....how the fuck did you take both of us?” he whines, fingers reaching up to grasp at broad shoulders. “Tyler's so fucking big...”

“I'm a slut for dick,” Daithi says flatly, then strokes Mini once and licks a long stripe up the side of his dick. He sucks hungrily at the tip, shoving his tongue in the slit in a way that makes Mini mewl, and tries his best to time his licks with Tyler's thrusts.

“Oh, you _like_ this,” Tyler murmurs, pressing his face into Mini's throat and sucking hungrily at the skin there. Mini whines, low and soft, and shifts one hand to clutch at Daithi's hair, fingers tangling in the strands. Daithi peeks up at him and relaxes his throat, swallowing Mini's dick down to the root and earning a choked off cry of his name.

He pulls off with a smirk and laughs softly. “Come on, Mini. Lemme hear your pretty voice.”

Tyler snorts and shits his hips, thrusting in particularly sharply. Daithi lets Mini's dick slide back down his throat and he swallows, feeling the way the other jerks beneath his grasp. He pulls back just enough so he can lap at the veins running down the underside, then back further until he's sucking at the head. Daithi can feel Tyler's every thrust, can feel the way the movement forces Mini's dick further down his throat, and he coughs, pulling off so he can breathe again.

Mini arches, some strangled combined version of their names falling from his lips, eyes falling closed, and cum splatters across Daithi's face. His eyes immediately snap shut and he ducks his face, a hand coming up to wipe at the smears of white. “Fuck that's hot,” Tyler breathes, blue eyes wide, and his hips still as he reaches his own peak, and Daithi gives him the finger even as he ducks under the spray of water.

It's not as warm as it used to be, the heated water slowly running out, and Daithi wipes his face clean. Tyler pulls out of Mini, eyes practically glued to the Brit's inner thighs and the cum dripping down them. “We should clean up,” he murmurs and Daithi snorts and shoves a bottle of shampoo into his hands.

“Be my goddamn guest,” he says, and Tyler takes it, laughing softly.

(They end of crashing after the shower, curled up together on the bed.)

**oOo**

Morning is....awkward, to say the least. Daithi comes to slowly, a low whine escaping him. He's curled up on the bed, completely naked and pressed against Tyler's form. The larger man is snoring faintly, Mini draped over his other arm, and Daithi's heart clenches in his chest.

(His head _aches._ What the fuck happened last night?)

((He knows what happened last night, he just doesn't want to admit it.))

Daithi carefully separates himself from them, wriggles out of their arms, and tries to ignore that fact that he's basically fleeing from the situation. He yanks sweatpants on over his hips—Mini's, he realizes half a second later; his name is written down the leg—and Daithi would grab another pair, but they're so damn comfortable.

He makes the mistake of glancing back at the bed and his heart drops into his stomach at the sight of the two of them; the way they've moved to curl around each other in his absence.

(It should be cute, but all it does is make his heart hurt.)

The kitchen is empty when he steps into it and not even the smell of freshly brewed can perk his spirits. Daithi sighs and fills a cup, dropping into a seat with a wince, and he stares quietly into its dark depths like it holds the secrets of the world.

“Where the fuck do you think you're going?” Daithi's head snaps up and he blinks blearily at Tyler, who's standing in the doorway and glaring at him.

“What?”

Tyler heaves a sigh and stalks forward, plucks the cup out of Daithi's hands, dumps it, and then throws the Irishman over his shoulder. He whirls around and strides out of the room, flicking the light switch off as he passes by, and heads for the stairs. “I don't know what the fuck you're thinking, I know what _I'm_ thinking. After last night, I'm not letting either of you go.” He dumps Daithi ungracefully on the bed, straight across an already awake Mini—who squawks loudly—then drags the both of them under the blankets. “Neither of you are going anywhere.”

So they don't.

 


End file.
